


Punch, Punch, Fall In Love

by TheIntelligentHufflepuff



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Boxing, F/F, Fluff, Love Confessions, Minor Injuries, subtle feminism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 12:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15096602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIntelligentHufflepuff/pseuds/TheIntelligentHufflepuff
Summary: Inspired by a picture of women boxing on a rooftop in the 1930s.Regardless of gender Bucky is Bucky (and will fret over Steve's injuries), Steve is Steve (and will get involved in covert boxing clubs), and both of them won't say anything about their feelings unless one of them has had a dramatic realisation.





	Punch, Punch, Fall In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Link to photo that inspired this: https://rarehistoricalphotos.com/women-boxing-roof-1938/

Every window in Brooklyn was open, vainly attempting to catch a breeze in the stagnant heat. The sound of the key scraping in the lock mingled with the warped echo of smooth jazz on someone’s wireless and the soft dripping of blood from Stevie’s bleeding nose. She shoved the door open with her elbow, trying not to get too much of its peeling paint on her dress- it was an unsuccessful effort, but she consoled herself that the dress would have to be washed that Monday anyway. It was drenched in sweat. Carefully, she pushed the door closed behind her and locked it, tilting her head back to avoid leaving a trail of blood on their ratty welcome mat, before making her way across what served as their front room to the bedroom. Stevie opened the door, ready to collapse against the washstand and start cleaning out the wound, only to freeze. 

 

Bucky, who was supposed to be out on a date all evening, was sat on her bed in nothing but her petticoats, reading a book. They stared at each other in mutual shock for a total of two seconds before the blood leaking from Stevie’s nose registered and Bucky leapt up, book flying, to grab at Stevie’s face. 

 

“What on God’s green Earth did you did you do?” Bucky demanded, determinedly circumventing Stevie’s attempts to dodge her hands. Eventually she won, strong, slender fingers gripping Stevie’s jaw firmly to tilt her face this way and that. 

 

“It’s not gonna go away if you look at it differently.” Stevie snarked.

 

“Hah, hah.” Bucky replied, pulling Stevie towards the washstand as if she wasn’t heading there already “Seriously. What happened?” 

 

Stevie took the flannel Bucky offered and started dabbing carefully at her wound, while Bucky dug about in the tiny cupboard underneath to extract some bandages and iodine “Got punched.” 

 

“By who?” Bucky demanded, concerned for a second before her expression morphed into one of simple exasperation “Did you start it? Was it one of those cows? What are they…?”

 

“The DuBois?” Stevie offered; Bucky nodded “No, it wasn’t. Thanks,” she accepted the iodine Bucky offered and hissed as she started applying it to the wound. 

 

“So?” Bucky pressed, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed like a more artistic version of a disappointed mother “Who hit you?” 

 

Stevie glanced at her, calculated her chances of getting away with lying as nill, and relented “One of the girls I box with. It was an accident.” 

 

Bucky blinked, laughed slightly hysterically, then punched Stevie none too gently in the shoulder “What the fuck?” 

 

Stevie grinned, even as she began applying bandages to her nose; she always liked to see this private Bucky, who hit her in the shoulder when she was being a dunce, swore, and stood as she was now, feet planted wide and ready to stand her ground. It was much more similar to the Bucky of their tomboy youth than the current public Bucky, who had slowly but surely been bowing to the pressure of her parents and her boss, turning into a deflated reflection of her usually boisterous self. 

 

“Why are you grinning?” Bucky asked, but she was smiling too. She had a beautiful smile which appeared so effortlessly that sometimes, like now, Stevie wondered if Bucky even noticed she was doing it. 

 

Instead of answering, Stevie made the last dexterous movements necessary to wrap her nose. When she turned to Bucky, she was looking at her with a strange expression on her face- something that found a home between fond and irritated. 

 

“Wanna come?” she asked. 

 

“Where?” 

 

Stevie rolled her eyes, flopping down on her bed “Boxing.” 

 

Bucky sat down at the end of the bed, leaning back over Stevie’s legs. She shrugged “Why not? The amount of fights you get it, could come in handy.” 

 

Ignoring the dig, Stevie tilted her head to the side “And it keeps you fit.” 

 

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, patting Stevie’s leg, which was much more muscular than it had ever been “I can tell. What do you wear?” 

 

“A lot of the girls bring bathing suits; I just wear my housework dress.” Stevie answered, trying very hard to control the way her voice wanted to tremble at the way Bucky casually left her hand lying on Stevie’s leg. 

 

“So that’s why you’ve been lathering the shit out of it every wash day?” Bucky guessed, eyes sparkling “Maybe you should try wearing something else. Put that poor dress through the mangle one more time it’ll fall to pieces. Look,” she emphasised, reaching up lazily to tug at Stevie’s collar “I can practically see your underwear.” 

 

Stevie flushed. Looking down, the outline of the fabric of her bra was quite apparent. 

 

“Well,” she said, not meeting Bucky’s eyes “Maybe I’ll wear something else next time. Have you eaten?” 

 

*** 

  
  


The next session was a few days away. Bucky had refrained from asking too many questions in that time, but on their way there she began peppering Stevie with enquiries. 

 

“So is it the same as going up against a guy?” 

 

“Pretty much. We don’t try to hurt each other too badly, but then again no-one holds back.” 

 

“Now I see why you do it!” Bucky exclaimed, too perceptive for her own good “Who started it?” 

 

“A woman called Adelita. She fought in the revolution in Mexico when she was very young. She’s pretty great.” 

 

“Sounds it.” Bucky agreed easily, giving their linked arms a little tug “And who else goes?” 

 

“A few girls like me, looking for something a bit more stimulating than knitting-”

 

“Hey,” Bucky interjected “Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it.” 

 

Stevie shook her head, smiling for a moment before she continued more seriously “And a few whose husbands have, uh, got bored of them, if ya’ know what I mean.” 

 

Bucky winced. Neither of them had ever had such an experience, but they both knew women only a couple of years older than them who had settled down with a seemingly adequate man only to discover he was a brute and a tyrant when he no longer had  to work to keep the poor woman close; it wasn’t as if getting a divorce was easy.

 

“Well good on them.” Bucky said. 

 

“Yeah.” Stevie emphatically agreed “Give him a taste of his own medicine. Here we are.” 

 

They turned into an alley where a side door led into the kitchen of a diner. Adelita stood to the side, sweating through the handkerchief tying back her hair. Stevie wouldn’t want to be her, stationed between the heat of the ovens and of the summer. 

 

“Hello Stevie, and…?” she greeted them, scrutinising Bucky in her particularly frank way. 

 

Bucky straightened up and introduced herself, nodding her head respectfully. Adelita’s weathered lips twitched. 

 

“She wants to join. She’ll keep mum, I can vouch.” 

 

“Welcome to the club.” Adelita easily agreed, shaking both of their hands firmly. They nodded to her once again, then made their way upstairs. 

 

“So it’s a secret?” Bucky whispered. 

 

Stevie nodded, apologetic “Sorry, I forgot to mention that; it’s to keep it so the women escaping their husbands can still come. Y’know, tell him they’re going shopping, come here, and when he asks why it took so long say they bumped into one of the other girls and started chatting. It’s why I didn’t tell you I joined.” 

 

Waving off her apology, Bucky said “It’s alright. It’s sensible. Thanks for inviting me.” 

 

“No problem,” Stevie laughed “I’ve been wanting to for a while. I think you’ll enjoy it.” 

 

Stevie certainly did. Once Bucky had been introduced to the eclectic mix of women in attendance, the session got underway. To start, Adelita demonstrated moves that they practiced on each other, working up a gleam of sweat. Then, they formed themselves into a makeshift ring and the boxing really began, each woman going up against another to see who could last the longest, all of them cheering and wincing at each well executed move and each hit. In particular, Stevie took a deep satisfaction from watching Bucky match up against some of the more experienced girls, face screwed up in concentration and hair flying loose, stubbornly refusing to give up until she’d spent at least a minute in the ring. Equally, Stevie felt a flush of pride when she was able to quadruple that record, not necessarily from the same stubborn endurance Bucky had, but through agility and subtle strength. When she turned to sit down, chest heaving with a slight wheeze that was not necessarily good but wasn’t threatening for once, her eyes met Bucky’s. The warm admiration she saw there pooled heat in the pit of her stomach that didn’t dissipate throughout the entire walk home, even as her legs ached on the ascent of the steps leading up to their apartment. 

 

When Stevie locked the door and threw the key into the bowl beside it, she didn’t expect to see Bucky gazing at her unblinkingly with what seemed to be the same heat radiating from her eyes. 

 

Stevie swallowed. 

 

“That was fun.” Bucky observed “Very educational.” 

 

“Educational?” Stevie echoed. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

Bucky started towards her, stopped, crossed her arms. All while giving Stevie that look that made her heart skip in anticipation. 

 

“Watching you box, watching you move like that, and the look on your face…” Bucky trailed off, not meeting Stevie’s eyes; Stevie was on the cusp of giving her a joke as an out when she continued with renewed certainty “Watching you made me feel the way watching Errol Flynn does. But more.” 

 

Stevie licked her lips. She felt poised to run- either from Bucky or towards her “What do you mean?” 

 

“I mean to say I think I might be a little bit in love with you. And I don’t know what to do.” 

 

Stevie gaped, a wide grin slowly spreading across her face. The pool of warmth in her stomach turned into a geyser, compelling her to lurch forwards to grab Bucky’s hands “Maybe kiss me?” 

 

And so Bucky did, gently threading calloused fingers through Stevie’s short cropped hair as Stevie settled her hands on Bucky’s soft hips, pulling their bodies closer. They weren’t quite touching, but were close enough to exchange breaths as Stevie whispered “That was nice. I should probably let you know that I might be a little bit in love with you too. Don’t tell your boyfriend.” she pulled back “Actually, do tell him something. I don’t wanna go turning you into a two-timer.” 

 

“No need,” Bucky smirked, pulling Stevie back in for another kiss “He’s already left. He found me a bit too, how shall I say…”

 

“Argumentative?” Stevie teased. 

 

Bucky snorted, shaking her head “I guess.” 

 

“So that’s why you were home the other night?” 

 

“Yeah. And a good thing too, I’da probably carried on thinking you were just my good gal pal if I hadn’t seen you sweating like a pig and looking like a terrier going at a slipper.” 

 

“Gee,” Stevie pulled away, feigning offence “Well if that’s the way you’re gonna be, and only five minutes into our relationship, then I swear I oughtta…” 

 

“No!” Bucky giggled, chasing Stevie around their tiny living room “Come back! Come dancing with me!” 

 

“Nah,” Stevie shook her head, letting Bucky loop her arms around her from behind “Not tonight. I’m dead on my feet after that.” 

 

“Alright,” Bucky easily agreed, hooking her chin over Stevie’s shoulder “Come to bed then. I’ve got a book I wanna finish. And you can draw.” 

 

“That,” Stevie said, twisting around to peck a kiss on Bucky’s cheek “I can get on board with.” 

 

“And don’t punch me in the night if we fall asleep!” Bucky added. 

 

Stevie, halfway through the bedroom door, shrugged “No promises.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> a) In the end it wasn't relevant but I was thinking this fic would take place in about 1936, so both Steve and Bucky would be 19/20  
> b) Errol Flynn was a Hollywood actor who did swashbuckling things   
> c) this fic was kinda weirdly sexual? It's not me trying to fetishise f/f relationships (I'm actually a wlw myself), I was just kinda failing to find a period accurate equivalent for ye olde 'his shirt rode up and exposed a bit of chest and a slither of underwear' trope, so...bras  
> d) sorry for any other anachronisms   
> e) I hope it was entertaining anyhow!


End file.
